Chronicles Wilde
by BagpipeHeadache
Summary: Episode Two: Nick, Judy, and friends, are caught in a race against time. They must find Nick's father before the Animalian government does, lest the truth and secrets be lost. Facing challenges and danger every step of the way, from all directions, will they find the strength to go the distance and outplay the forces of corruption? Rated M for darkness, violence, and smut. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: A New Message

 _Jaaaaaack._

Jack Savage's eyes opened to darkness. He was stomach-down on his bed, his night stand coming into focus to his left.

 _Saaavage._

The voice was deep, and sounded like gravel being poured. It echoed.

 _Jackson-_

 _ **SAVAGE!**_

 _We've been waiting-_

 _Long time-_

 _Jaaack-_

He gripped his sheets with an outstretched paw. He couldn't move, and something was pinning him to the bed. His legs wouldn't respond, a paralysis injection?! The voices were coming from all corners of his room, some much closer than others, of all different volumes and tones.

 _Fucking kill you-_

 _Worthless hare-_

 _We know what you did-_

 _Who you are-_

 _ **NO! DON'T, PLEASE!**_ One of the voices screamed. It was female.

Jack tried to shout, to call for help, but he found himself unable. All he could manage was a feeble croak. A figure came into his limited view. It was darker than the shadows cast by the ambient light of the city through his window. It craned its head down sideways to glare at him with burning red eyes.

 _Hello again Jaaaaack,_ it said, unseen lips pulling back to reveal rows of stark white, dagger-like teeth. It's ears were flattened against its head, hackles up.

 _Did you miss us?_ Another voice said directly into Jack's ear. He suddenly felt the pressure of another body on top of his.

Jack tried in vain to buck or swipe at whoever it was, but his body didn't respond. Tears of rage and frustration blurred his vision.

 _He'll never forget_ , came a new voice. Jack recognized it immediately: Mr. White. _I beat some semblance of sense into him._

Suddenly his entire body lit up with pain. Every injury he'd ever received was suddenly made fresh, the scars across his back and shoulders ablaze, various gunshot wounds and broken bones throbbed anew, and his _heart_. It felt like one of the figures had reached inside his chest and was wringing all the organs like a wet towel. He choked on his sobs, hyperventilating, adrenaline tearing through his body. Desperation took over his senses. He cried out in sheer terror.

 _Bleeeed, you animal,_ _ **BLEEEED**_ **!**

And he did. Jack could feel his blood staining the sheets, dripping from every re-opened laceration. He was slipping back into darkness.

"N-no...no," He gasped, struggling for air, "I'm sorry...I'm sorry!"

 _Sorry doesn't save anybody,_ came the female voice from before.

The room was growing smaller, the shadows and continuously echoing whispers and voices becoming more and more oppressive by the second. It felt like there were forty animals in his room.

 _Jaaa-_

 _Jaaaaaaack Sava-_

 _Jack Savaaage-_

 _ **JAAACKSON**_ _-_

 _Saaaavaaaaage-_

 _ **JAAA-**_

Two dings from his phone ripped him out of his state. Jack thrashed and rolled over, flinging the covers off and tumbling to the floor. Shadows flickered on the edges of his vision, figures evading his gaze and disappearing around corners and behind furniture, their voices and menacing threats still echoing in the darkness. He scrambled backwards into his other nightstand and immediately fished his revolver out of the drawer. Gripping it tightly with trembling paws, he scanned what he could see of his room, pausing for a length of time on his open bathroom doorway.

Everything was so still. He could hear the wind gently rustling outside, and the rustic ticking of his antique wall clock. His heart still raced, thumping in his ears. Sweat rolled down his shirtless form.

He could feel it coming, like the rumble of a distant train. With shaking hands he set the revolver on his bed before breaking into violent sobs. All of those emotions he had to keep under the surface were suddenly breaking free, like prisoners who suddenly notice the gate is open and bumrush it. Anger, terror, self-loathing, frustration, self-pity, horror at what he had done, all flashed through him in a matter of seconds. He buried his eyes in clenched paws, quivering with the echoes of adrenaline.

It was so very lonely here.

After a long time, he dared to glance at the digital clock beside his bed. 3:47 AM. He took a shaky breath and hauled himself upright. Trying to sleep again was out of the question; he could never go back to sleep after any of his episodes. He needed some comfort.

Donning an old, worn hoodie, he stumbled through the darkened hallway to his sitting room. He didn't need to flick on the lights; plenty of ambient illumination filtered through the "wall," which was really a giant window overlooking the city of Zootopia. The lights of the nightlife provided some small measure of amenity.

 _Tonight, I wear a hat. Leopard: wears a hat. And James?_ _ **Wears a hat**_ _!_

Jack smirked to himself as the opening credits of an episode of Top Gear filled the apartment with noise. He set the remote of his DVD player down and began to hand-grind some coffee beans. The episode was one he'd seen before. He'd seen them all before, but he used his favorite TV show to ground him and remind him of home in Greater Britannia, far across the Atlantic. In this one, the trio of Jeremy Clarkson (a donkey), James Bay (a bloodhound), and Leopard Hammond (a particularly short predatory cat) attempted to build motorhomes that were both cool and easy to use for the everyday road-goer.

He lent his ears and found himself calmed as he made his coffee, glancing up on occasion to chuckle at the antics of the presenters. He sat on the couch his television bathed in ambient light with crossed legs. The coffee was rich and dark, meant for sipping slowly. The trembling in his paws had eased up, but it was still there.

Halfway through his steaming beverage, he suddenly remembered that his phone had gone off; it's what had brought him back to the world of reality in the first place! He gingerly set his mug down on his coffee table and made his way back to his bedroom.

 _New Message_ , the screen indicated. He swiped to open it. Must be new orders from M.

The message was from an unfamiliar number, and definitely wasn't of M's pragmatic, minimalist style. He frowned as he read it.

 _There was once a time that you told me you were afraid of never being able to repay me. That may have been true in most circumstances, but now's your chance. You'll receive new orders soon. Find me._

"John?"

o0OO0o

Nick scowled at the helicopters orbiting overhead. The wash from their blades cast waves of gusting wind that ruffled ears, fur, and uniforms alike. Couldn't they fly a little higher? Wasn't the point of the news stations using their helicopters for this event to capture the enormity of it all?

It was a memorial service for fallen law enforcement. Nearly 8, 000 police officers, sheriffs, and detectives were present, some from as far away as Canada, all to honor the memories of those lost in the past year, including a partner pair murdered in broad daylight only two weeks before. The day had been full of standing, sitting, saluting, and trying to remain as stoic as possible. Far too many names were read off. Bells were tolled, salutes were fired, bagpipes were played - rather poorly, but the sentiment was understood. Nick was thankful for mild weather; his full kit, with its white gloves, stiff hat, and buttoned coat and medals was less than breathable.

"Isn't that a little rude?" Wolford asked over Nick's shoulder. They were in two immense lines that were two officers across, following the coffins of the recently slain partners to their respective hearses.

"The helicopters?"

"Yea, flying so low like that?"

Nick shrugged, continuing his stare of annoyance at the thundering aircraft. Then he sighed and snuck a glance to his left. Judy marched along in the other line, directly across from him. Her focused alternated between the ground and the officer directly in front of her, Fangmeyer. The ceremony seemed to have taken more of an emotional toll on her than it had Nick. He was sympathetic but unsurprised.

In the year since the abductions and debacle with Mr. White, he and Judy had began to spend more and more time living together. As a result, Nick had come to understand the differences between how the two of them came to process the usual tumult of emotions that came with such a strenuous job. Judy was much more fluid and open; she would allow herself to experience the emotions, then be free of them. Nick on the other hand maintained his walls. His castle was constantly under siege, and it fell every so often. But after his breakdowns, he would rise again, dust himself off, and continue on, waiting for the next overload.

Nick turned his gaze forward just as his nose buried itself in Delgado's lower back.

"Watch yourself there, detective," the lion whispered with a chuckle.

Nick simply cleared his throat and took a step back, casting sheepish look about him. No one seemed to notice.

Except for two grey wolves in dark suits and sunglasses, standing beside one of the trees lining the avenue, paws clasped in front, stoic as medieval sculptures. Their ears were focused directly forward, and their suits ruffled as a helicopter rumbled overhead. That was odd.

Nick shrugged; they were probably security for the event. Since the nighthowler incident, sheep had been increasingly cast in a negative light and discriminated against. Increasing incidents of civilian and police brutality had led to protests and some scattered terror attacks. A mass gathering of law enforcement was a ridiculous target, but one that would both hurt officers and gain the perpetrators substantial notoriety. One couldn't be too careful, Nick supposed, but the wolves seemed to be focusing on only him, and it was starting to make his skin itch.

"Officers! Diiiiiiis-missed!" Came the booming voice of Chief Bogo. The coffins had obviously made it into the back of their respective hearses at the front of the lines. The great lines of law enforcement turned ninety degrees to the right en mass, and stepped forward once before breaking ranks. Most of those present would accompany the two hearses to the graveyard in a great motorcade, but not Nick and Judy. They had given up the morning of their day off to attend this event, and so hadn't arrived in a police vehicle.

"Hey you,"came a small voice that was music to his ears.

"It's Officer Toot-toot!" He said, spinning to meet Judy's gaze. She gave him an amused smirk.

Though the previous year's bombing had left her scarred, the damage to her face was light. Despite what she said about it herself, Nick felt her marks in no way spoiled her looks. They were beautiful, in a strange, poetic sense.

"Ready to get out of here?"

"I am, my collar is getting tight and those security guys are giving me the creeps."

"What security guys?"

"Those wolves over...there." He pressed his lips together in a line as he pointed to the vacated spots the wolves were formerly standing. "Never mind, I guess they scattered with everyone else. Home?"

"...Sure," Judy said, regarding him with a raised eyebrow.

* * *

I'm baaaaack! I'm overwhelmed by the wonderful comments and fanfare I received for my last story, Bleeding Eyes, thank you all very much! This is indeed a sequel/ continuation of that story. Buckle up...I've got quite an interesting trek planned. :]

Also, this will be your one and only smut warning. Expect it at any time. As noted in Bleeding Eyes, I won't warn you at the beginning of a chapter because I believe it spoils the natural progression of things. ;P


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Passion and Punishment

"You called for me, sir?" The wolverine peaked around the door nervously.

"You're late." The old armadillo didn't turn to acknowledge him, continuing to stare out his shuttered window from his office chair. "Close the door."

"S-sorry, Mr. Stanford, sir, the interdisciplinary team wanted me to run some background checks and I-"

"Save it," Stanford said, rotating and folding his hands on his desk. "Have you done what I've asked?"

"Yes, we have a bead on those two Zootopian cops. I've got the Larkin twins on it, they made contact this morning. They're tailing the two now."

The armadillo raised an eyebrow, "And Tiger Stripes?"

"Him too...I've assigned that sniper we picked up."

"Fey?"

"Yes, that's the one. It took some...coaxing. He'll be expecting double."

"Money is of no concern; what's his intel?"

"That Stripes has some major issues and was shouting and crying alone in his apartment early this morning."

"Anything else?"

"He received some messages at around 4:30 AM. He left and Fey lost contact until he found him again exiting the Vixen's house."

"Shit." Stanford removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"Something wrong, sir?"

"It's too early to tell. How quickly can you mobilize a wet team?"

Logan did some mental calculations. "Round about two hours."

"I want it done in one."

The wolverine stiffened. "Y-yes sir, right away."

"I want them stationed outside the cops' residences with a direct line to me."

"I can do that."

"Good, meet me again once you've finished that up. I'm going for my evening coffee."

o0OO0o

 _For Samurai, as important as knowing how to kill, was knowing how and when to die._

" _In the battlefield especially,"_ said a female Japanese serow _, "your last moment of life, you have to show your control. Controlling your body, controlling your destiny, your fate, is an indication of your internal strength, so at the last moment, you have to stage your death."_

 _Seppuku, or hara kiri, is the ritual of suicide, as practiced by Samurai._ Across the screen flashed an image of a cherry blossom tree's boughs swaying in the wind. A Japanese flute played in the background.

A fox appeared in kimono with swords, sitting for an interview. His rapid-fire Japanese was dubbed over in English." _A Samurai warrior carried two swords on his hip: a long one, and a short one. The short sword was for cutting open his abdomen. Why would Samurai cut open his abdomen? Well, Japanese, especially Samurai, believed that the heart was in the belly. They believed that whether their heart was pure or impure would reveal itself when they disemboweled themselves."_

 _From the death poem to the final thrust of the dagger, Seppuku is a ceremonial ritual of suicide, ensuring an honorable death._ A dramatic piece of ancient artwork portraying a Seppuku ritual appeared.

"Well they're not wrong," Judy said from behind Nick.

"About what?" he asked. He was splayed across his couch, clad in only boxers and an old t-shirt.

"The heart being in the belly."

"Psh," Nick paused the documentary and flipped onto his stomach, resting his chin on the arm of the couch, "I believe _you're_ the one that said otherwise."

"How so?" Judy hadn't yet looked up from her pen and paper. She sat in Nick's loveseat with her legs crossed, notepads and an open file splayed across her lap.

"I remember you telling me it's, what was it, 'a bit further down?'"

She smiled, but continued writing. "Still a morbid ritual, don't you think?"

Nick frowned, then shrugged to himself. "It seems shocking to our culture, sure. But I'd bet they'd be appalled by our lack of manners nowadays. Not much respect left, is there?"

"Heh, I'll say."

"And it was their way of ending it all with some small nugget of dignity. I can't even imagine what it must have taken to do something like that. Whether or not someone believes in it, you gotta give credit to those guys that did it, they had some balls."

"No denying that."

A beat of silence stretched out before Nick frowned again. "Hey."

"Mmhmm?"

"What's eating you?"

"Nothing, why?"

"You're a hopeless liar, Fluff."

"Nothing, really."

"You won't get rid of me that easily; you've been quiet ever since the drive back here."

Judy sighed and her pen came to a halt. She stared at the writing utensil, rotating it between the fingers of her prosthetic hand. "I...I was just thinking about those two officers that were killed. The ones at the service this morning."

"Yea? Has that got you worried?"

"A little. I mean, one of them was about to retire, and the other was a new mother. She was top of her class and everything, just like me. They had far more experience than either of us, and they'd been on the beat for a couple years before we came along…"

"Mmhmm?"

"And yet some random drugged-up punk killed them. It just...scares me, is all." She turned to look at him. "That even the best of us can have our lives taken by a cosmic roll of the dice, by chance. I mean, I know we're detectives now and don't have to run the usual patrol routes, but we still get caught up in some dangerous stuff."

Nick let her words sink in, then gave her a tender smile. "C'mere."

"Hmm?"

"I said c'mere!" He held his arms out to his sides and propped himself up. Judy made her way to the couch with suspicious scowl on her face. That, paired with a too-large t-shirt and a pair of pink panties provided a rather alluring image. She settled into Nick's lap facing away from him. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin between her ears.

"The only dangerous thing we're going through right now is how much you're damaging yourself by stressing out about things that haven't happened."

She shrugged, but remained silent.

"I use the same worries to put myself at peace. Stressing or worrying about something like that now is wasting energy and happiness. Just take a deep breath, and live in the present. We aren't being chased by any big, bad henchmen, we aren't being shot at, and I'm not trying to outdrink Finnick."

At the mention of his small companion, she giggled. "Never again."

"Absolutely not, I had no idea that fox could handle so much. Good god." Nick grinned at the memory, then shook it from his thoughts. "All I'm saying is that right now, I'm here for you, and you don't have anything to worry about. It's a horrible thing that happened to those two, and a horrible thing that so many other officers' names were read off, but if we can't honor them, pull ourselves together, and move on, then what else is there?"

"Over-thinking and soaking in a cauldron of self-inflicted stress and terror at what _might_ be?" Judy mused.

"Now you're thinking," Nick said, gently tapping her nose with his finger pad. "And _that_ isn't good for us, is it?"

"Certainly not." She nuzzled as much of his neck as she could reach. "You have a way with words, Mr. Wilde."

"They don't call me a sly fox for nothing." They shared a quick kiss. "And besides, you're working too hard on your day off."

"Pffft." She crossed her arms. "Any more potshots you wanna take at me?"

"Let's see," he said, feigning serious thought, "you've used an entire packet of ballpoint pens in two weeks, you keep organizing my place even though I never ask you to, Bogo loves you more than he loves me, your cooking _continually_ makes mine seem like a college kid's, and one of your medals was slightly askew this morning."

"Well, you workout too much."

" _I_ workout too mu-says the one who outpaces the rest of us in both sprints and long distance runs! Not to mention you squat more than me..." Nick ranted with mock exasperation.

"Aww, do I make the hustle-fox jealous?" She asked, turning in his grasp to face him.

"At least I don't have to keep track of ears like that!"

He yelped in surprise as she stroked his tail, which he had curled around her as well. "But I can't even imagine what it must be like to try and keep this thing out of the way…"

"It's an everyday battle. Especially around someone with feet like yours."

"Oh, you mean the feet that beat you on the track _and_ the squat rack?"

"Yea, the feet that gave you this beauty." He said, pinching her rump, to which she squealed and jumped closer to him. He gave a triumphant chuckle and tightened his embrace, to which she responded by nuzzling his neck.

"You dumb fox," she said.

"Psh, how am I the dumb-augh!" He realized his mistake: by pulling her close, her paws were in the perfect position to slip beneath his shirt and attack his belly.

And they were relentless.

"Oh god, no! I surren-I surrender! Hahah! Nuuu!" He cried out as he writhed. Judy straddled his hips and continued her onslaught. He tried to catch her wrists, but she was too quick. Finally he used his superior height and managed to buck her into the couch with his haunches. He wasted no time and reversed the position, holding her wrists over her head.

"Hah! What now detective? I dare you to scheme your way out of this one!" He said with a sinister grin.

She sighed in an ultra-sultry fashion. "Oh no, I'm trapped, how will I ever escape the big, bad fox?"

"Have I foiled the great Hopps? Is this possible?" Nick asked, keeping up the act.

"Perhaps my captor would accept a bribe?"

"A bribe huh? What kind of bribe?"

She narrowed her eyes at him and writhed with a naughty motion between his legs. "Whatever you'd like..."

"Oh-ho no, this must be some sort of trick...I was warned about you."

"No sir, no tricks here. You see, there's just something about foxes...they just...turn me on…"

"Well, in that case…" He transitioned her wrists so he could hold them both with one paw, still over her head. His other paw travelled up her shirt.

"Ooh, sly." She grinned at him, then sucked in a breath and bit her lip as his thumb ran over a rapidly-hardening nipple.

His paw explored her upper body, following bone structures and fur patterns, tracing a claw over her skin. "Such a perfect body…"

"Says the sexiest fox on the face of the earth."

"You're entitled to your opinion, of course," he said, skirting the waistline of her panties, "but I upped my fitness game to keep up with you."

She giggled, eyeing him. "I'd like to see you try, Mr. Wilde."

"Is that a challenge?" he hooked a finger beneath the ribbon of her underwear and began to slide them down.

"Mmm, you conniving scoundrel."

"Ah-ah, you're still my prisoner, Carrots," Nick said, feeling her try to pull her wrists out of his paw.

"But I just wanted to take your shirt off, you know, to even it up a little…"

Nick smirked as an idea formed in his head. He pulled his shirt over his head with one arm, then let it slide down the other, allowing him to tie Judy's wrists together. "There, how's that?"

Her eyes fluttered, then she grinned slyly. "Creative, I like it."

He continued pressing her arms into the couch cushion over her head as he slid her shirt off with the other. It neatly wrapped around his own shirt, trapping her paws in a ball of cotton. "I've got to press home my advantages, right?"

"What few of them you have."

He blinked and gave an exasperated snort. "Insulting your captor; that's going to cost you."

She squealed as he put his muzzle to use nibbling and kissing her neck and shoulders. He continued running his other hand over her body, noting where she flinched or sucked in a breath. "You smell _good_."

"Oooh, I hope you aren't thinking of _eating_ me!"

Nick noticed that she had begun to writhe again. It was rather sensual.

"I dunno, Fluff," Nick said between kisses, "that'd be an easy way to get rid of a problem prisoner." He let his paw drift to brush between her legs, pushing her panties further down her thighs. Judy immediately tensed and inhaled, letting slip a trembling sigh. His finger found and gently pressed against soft petals, and was greeted by warmth and slick wetness.

Judy narrowed her eyes at him again. He had moved his hips back from his straddling position to distribute his weight more evenly over her, as well as to kiss and nuzzle her. This meant that she could slip her legs out from beneath his haunches.

"...Clever bunny."

She had used her feet to pull his boxers off, hooking her toes around the waistband. They were only kept on by his rapidly hardening foxhood.

Nick chuckled to himself and stood, still keeping a paw on her restrained wrists, and let his underwear drop to the floor. He pulled her panties the rest of the way off and flung them. "Now," he said, reaching once again to investigate her lower region, "about that bribe."

"Y-yes?" Judy asked, quivering at Nick's movements.

"Perhaps a kiss?"

There was a beat of silence before she responded, a maniacal look to her. "I can do better than that." She pounced.

Nick found himself staring at his ceiling on the couch once again. "What the-"

"Shhh," Judy said, straddling him and muffling his muzzle with the shirts around her hands. Nick squinted at her in a mock-glare, but soon found himself unable to hold the act as she began to gently sway back and forth, gliding gently on his supine member. She held his gaze with a smirk, even as her breathing became heavier.

Nick felt his own breathing warming the shirt bundle. He reached and traced his claws down her back, which arched in response, a pleasurable groan escaping Judy. Then he scratched up and towards her neck and head. Up her ears his paws went.

"Oh-ho-ho; you're evil. It's time for _you_ to pay, mister," she said, fixing him with a stare that reminded him of his own easy-going, I-know-more-than-you-do face. She slid down his abdomen slowly. Painfully slowly. Sloth-speed. With such a pace that he was nearly within begging range. He held her gaze while suppressing a whine.

Suddenly, there it was; warm, slippery flower petals found his hardness.

But her pace continued.

"Ooooh…" he breathed absent-mindedly, still staring deeply into her bright purple eyes. Her smile deepened and her eyelids lowered a bit further.

Then the familiar dull pressure of envelopment squeezed itself further and further down, Nick's body gradually tensing with instinct and pleasure.

"Mmf, Nick," she said, drawing herself back up, still gazing into his eyes.

"Wow...this...ooof...never gets old."

Eventually she sped up, taking the muffle from Nick's face and placing her wrapped hands on his chest. Nick smiled as her ears went limp, one falling forwards and one back. The pleasure was beginning to distract her from everything else. Nick loved these moments; at no other time could he admire her for all her beauty, her erotic attractiveness mixing with an unequalled pull of adoration. Her fur, her glistening eyes, labored, sensual breathing, her slender neck and shoulders, powerful abdominals and legs. There was no other sensation, no other visual, like it. She was his. He was hers, and he loved to witness her taking advantage of her quarry, digging her fingers into his chest hair as a reaction to the sensations they shared across both bodies, relishing in lustrous euphoria with closed or heavy eyes.

And then she leaned forward, slipping her paws out of the bundle of shirts and grasping the sides of his head. She locked her lips onto his, letting their tongues do battle with one another. Her panting was redirected through her nose, and it tickled his muzzle. His paws slid up her sides, grasping, admiring that such a powerful animal, an animal that could steal his heart, save his life, survive a bombing, and instill inspiration in the hearts and souls of uncountable mammals could almost be encompassed by his hands. Her body was so small and adorable, but _she_ was larger than life itself.

And that's why he loved her.

"Oh god, Nick I'm guh...I'm gonna...haahh…"

Nick immediately wrapped his arms around her and held tight in preparation. She panted and whimpered into his neck, her body growing tighter, coiling like a spring, gathering heat and energy like a top-fuel dragster on the cusp of a green light, building pressure like the draw of an English longbow, arrow quivering with focused potential.

And then her resolve broke.

Her paws curled into fists, one grabbing a ball of Nick's modest mane, the other grasping the couch cushion. All of her body's rhythms were distorted, her gasping sounding distressed and surprised. She bucked whilst pressing herself down on him, her whole body lurching anew to the throb of ecstasy, a pulsing Nick could feel ghosting onto his member.

"Are we enjoying ourselves, Carrots?" Nick asked as he continued his hold on the undulating rabbit.

Her labored breathing continued for a while before she spoke. "Mmm, very much so."

Nick ran his paws over her body again as she gently resumed her oscillations. He could feel that her wetness had spread, and she had grown even hotter down below.

"I have an idea," Nick said. Without parting, he stood, turned, and deposited Judy onto the couch. He grabbed a couple pillows with his longer arms and placed one for her head while using the others to prop up her pelvis. He then took her left leg and propped it against his chest, letting her foot nest on his right shoulder.

"Oh dear...I'm...afraid you've gone too far...Mr...hah...Wilde," She panted as he began to knead her foot while pressing into her.

"Have I now?" Nick asked with faux-disinterest, "As it happens...oooh... _I_ now have the upper paw." He relished the sensation and visual of disappearing into her, the delicate folds parting for him, and her body's involuntary lurches in reaction to the sensation. There was nothing else like it.

Then he caught sight of her peering at him through heavy eyelids, her eyes as shiny and luminous as dew on a spring morning. They could see his soul. They routinely send little shocks through his entire body, which usually split and coalesced in his chest and lower belly. Love and sexual attraction.

He hugged her leg to him and closed his eyes, letting the pure sensations guide his breathing and his body's cadence. Judy's soft mewling only added to the experience. His focus descended until he only felt her leg against him, the couch on one shin and the floor on the other foot, and the pressures exerted on his foxhood. He felt a heat rising, filling his body, seemingly radiating from their union.

 _No, I'm enjoying this too much...just a little longer_. He opened his eyes again and distracted himself by massaging her calf, eventually making it up to her knee and powerful thigh.

But the visual of her was too much. Watching her pleasure herself to make up for the absence of his pelvis to grind into and coo spurned a peculiar but familiar sensation. It was like an itch, or a tickle in his lower abdomen. Pressure built. His breathing gained momentum, his bodily rhythms became more focused.

"Nick," she gasped, "don't stop. Don't stop, don't stop, don't stohh...do-hon't st...oh god…"

"Ju...Judy…" Nick fell forward, paws grasping the couch on either side of her head, pressing her leg against her body, allowing himself to give everything to her.

All at once, his consciousness descended. The spring released. The dragster screamed off the line, tires smoking. The arrow shot from the taut bowstring. Instinct drove his hips forward, ordering him to plunge into her with all that he was, to guarantee his seed would remain in place.

There were no thoughts. Emotions didn't inhabit his lurching, grunting form. His lips pulled back to reveal clenched teeth, his primal mind bombarded with impressions of purpose and overwhelming sensation, discouraging movement while his body poured forth its procreative nectar.

It was a while before he even noticed Judy's trembling, her paws digging into his upper arms. His lungs still heaving, he lifted himself off of her and met her gaze again. She slid her paws to his muzzle and gently kissed him.

"I love you, sly fox."

"And I love you, Carrots."

* * *

Surprise smut overload! Sorry if you found yourself offended, I tried to keep it classy. ;P

And of course...please review/ critique/ comment. It fuels me.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Votre Sauveur

Judy smiled and snuck another glance in the mirror at the silhouette of the fox behind her. Nick's form was just visible through the shower curtain. He usually took a little longer due to the sheer effort it took to wash the soap out of his tail. He was humming a tune to himself.

How did she get so lucky? Who in their right of mind would have thought that this would be her situation, that she would fall completely for a fox who was also head-over-paws for her? Judy knew she would have laughed if anyone had suggested it when she first came to Zootopia. But that was just the magic of it all, wasn't it? Sometimes the unexpected leads to the best things in life.

A noise on the edge of her hearing sounded over the rushing of the water. It sounded like a phone notification. She put her fur brush down on the counter and made her way to Nick's living room. They had left their phones on the coffee table when they'd gone to shower.

 _3 Missed Calls_

 _1 New Message_

Her phone read. All were from Jack Savage. The message was curt: _Vivienne's house, now. Danger_.

She frowned and opened her mouth to let Nick know the situation, but before she could produce a sound, Nick emitted a startled cry. This was followed a cacophony of shouts and crashes.

"Nick?!" She called, making for the bathroom door.

The portal burst open and Nick tumbled out, naked and soaking wet, a figure dressed in all black following him to the ground. They twisted and thrashed at each other until Nick was able to plant a foot into the gut of the dark-clad figure and heave them off. The fox scrambled to his feet, planting himself beside Judy, who was equally as naked, in a defensive position.

The figure moved quickly, straightening and drawing a knife from an unseen holster.

"Again?!" Nick shouted, "What is it with you people and knives?!"

The figure lunged, but Nick stepped to the side, grasping the lamp on the small table beside his couch and bringing it down in the assailant's head, shattering it in an explosion of porcelain. The attacker stumbled backwards, letting out a bark of pain.

Judy took the initiative and leapt over the sofa. She tore into the drawer of the same table looking for Nick's handgun. It wasn't there.

"What?!" She exclaimed. In doing so, she straightened, and caught the reflective glare of a distant picture frame hanging on the wall. There was another figure in the room! She whirled around just in time to duck beneath the swing of some kind of weapon. Acting on instinct and muscle memory, Judy swung her mechanical leg in an arc toward her assailant's ankles. The second figure, who was much smaller than the one Nick was fighting, shouted out in surprise as their legs were swept out from under them. Judy stood and hopped backwards to give herself some space.

To her right, Nick was deflecting savage blows dealt by the first figure. Some of the black of their clothing had ripped, revealing dark grey fur. Coupled with the height difference, Judy suspected the assailant was a wolf.

"Nick! Go for the nose!" She shouted.

Her fox dropped nearly to the floor to dodge a lunge, then sprang up, planting his fist into the front of the figure's masked face.

" _Oooohhaaaauuughh_!" The figure wailed, taking a step back and clutching at the spot Nick had punched.

"I smell koala!" Nick said before leaping at the recovering attacker.

"Thanks Nick-" Judy began, but stopped short when she turned back to where the figure attacking her used to be. _Where had he gone?_ Then she remembered what koalas were known for, and she looked straight up. "Holy-" she sputtered, heaving herself backwards, just as a knife flashed in front of her. The koala had scaled the wall and attacked her from the ceiling! She stood again, managing to dodge another slash.

"Who the fuck are you?!" she heard Nick shout before more furniture crashed to the floor.

Searing pain shot through the top of Judy's left ear. She yelped and stumbled backwards, feeling blood already beginning to trickle. "Enough of this!" She shouted. She timed the koala's next lunge and caught the knife in her prosthetic hand. She pulled with all her strength past herself, using the attacker's momentum against him, and planted her left fist into his temple. He gave a startled yelp as his head swung to the side. He fell dazed to one knee, holding the knife out defensively. Judy swung her synthetic leg again and caught the assailant's hand. The knife buried itself in the far wall with a _thunk_.

"Ten-two!" Judy's attacker began saying, "Ten-two! Ten t-uhk!"

His calls were cut short as Judy's foot found his other temple. He collapsed in a heap at her feet.

"Nick! I think they just called backup!"

"Fantastic!" Nick shouted from the kitchen amidst the sounds of shattering glass.

Judy sprinted to the far wall and heaved the knife out of it, then made for the kitchen. She found Nick holding the figure at bay with the shattered blade of a vegetable knife, a cut above his eye weeping crimson fluid down the side of his head. The assailant's knife was fully intact, the figure themself between Nick on the far side and Judy. Acting quickly, she rushed forward and drew the blade of her knife across the tendon on the back of the attacker's heal. The assailant screamed out in agony. The voice was female.

The attacker's knife appeared in the corner of judy's vision just as she turned from her slashing run. It caught her in the shoulder, sending her skidding across the tile floor.

"Judy!" Nick shouted. He lunged forward, snarling, catching the stumbling attacker in the throat and tackling her to the floor. Her head caught on the kitchen counter on the way down, and her wailing immediately ceased. Nick knelt on the attacker's body, breathing heavily, poised to strike her again if she moved. When she remained still, the anger on his face was replaced with concern. "Carrots, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Nick," Judy said, standing and making rotations with her arm to test her shoulder. Everything seemed to be working properly. Dread washed over her as a third figure appeared in the living area. This one almost reached the ceiling.

There was the sound of a shotgun being pumped.

"Nick, move!" Judy shouted as she lunged for him. She managed to tackle him to the floor just as the cabinet behind them exploded into splinters, the shotgun's blast deafening her.

"Go! Run!" Nick shouted, scrambling to his feet. They made for the open kitchen window, Judy throwing her body against the screen to pop it out. The shattering of window glass bruised the air behind them as they sprinted across the street and between houses for safety. They ran, and ran, and ran.

They ran until the neighborhood ended and gave way to a park. They pounded onward until they passed over a canal on a bridge. Their paws continued to do battle with the ground as the lights of downtown came into view.

"Carrots!" Nick panted, "We're naked! Find an alley!"

"Oh shit!" Judy exclaimed, suddenly remembering their lack of clothing. They ducked into the space between two building just before a horde of animals crossed the street towards them. They kneeled, lungs heaving in the shadows, watching the rest of the animals go by.

"Holy shit," Nick said, "Who the hell were those guys?"

"How should I know? We aren't even working an active case! Who would have an in for us now?"

Nick panted and stared at the ground for a few seconds. "Regardless, we need to get clothed and get our bearings." He seemed to search for something before he swore. "Fuck! Our phones are at the house!"

"Oh!" Judy said, the mention of their mobile devices jogging her memory, "I think Jack tried to warn us about the attack."

"Oh yea?"

"I had three missed calls from him and a text that told us to go to your mom's place because there was danger."

"Well shit, his timing is impeccable isn't it?" Nick said, standing and huffing with frustration. He set his paws on his hips and studied the wall of the alley. "I need to find a couple quarters somehow. And a pay phone."

…

It took them nearly three hours of sneaking around the city through the shadows to finally find some quarters. The change came from a homeless, nearly toothless old goat, who got quite a kick out of the whole situation. It also just so happened that he was camped not too far away from a pay phone, which Nick and Judy were currently scanning to make sure they could use without being charged for indecent exposure.

"Looks clear, no mammals for a count of twenty," Judy said.

At her words, they both slinked into the phone booth. Judy kept watch while Nick deposited the quarters and dialed a number.

"Finnick? Hey big guy, it's Nick. Uh, il ya de l'eau dans le sous-sol et la climatisation a cessé de fonctionner."

Judy frowned with surprise and glanced up at the fox. Since when did Nick speak French?

He nodded. "Yup, we're fine...Downtown, between Derwent and Sopwith, there's a payphone outside a liquor store. Thanks again, see ya."

Just as Judy heard him hang up, a hippo came lumbering around the corner, looking quite distracted by his cell phone. She and Nick quietly slunk back into the alley, seemingly unnoticed.

"So when were you going to tell me you spoke French?" Judy whispered as they knelt in the shadows again.

Nick looked embarrassed and scratched his upper arm. "Not...not many animals know I can. Finnick taught me through the years we spent together."

"Finnick?"

"Yes. He, uh, his family was bi-lingual. His mother was basically full-blooded French, and they lived in Baton Rouge before Finnick made his way here."

"Huh," Judy said, replaying an old memory, "that would explain his affinity for French rap."

"Exactly."

Silence spanned them for a while. The sounds of distant traffic trickled in from the alley's opening, and the rushing of wind high above brought about a soothing feeling.

Inexplicably, Nick burst into laughter. "How the fuck do we end up in situations like these?"

"Like what?"

"Like right now," he said, between giggles, "We're squatting naked in an alley like some kind of cave-mammals out of time, because my house got broken into _again_ by animals trying to kill us _again_ while we wait for Finnick to save the day _again_. I just find it hilarious. Like...seriously?"

"And to think we're minor celebrities," Judy added, beginning to chuckle herself, "who've had our mugs up on buses, billboards, and Time Magazine for crying out loud!"

"If only our adoring fans could see us now!"

They giggled with one another for a few minutes before falling silent again. Nick found a seat on a horizontal section of pipe and beckoned for Judy. She walked over, and he took her in his arms again.

"But at least we have each other."

"That's all I need," she said, looking up into his eyes. He smiled back at her, and they kissed.

Forty minutes later, they heard the sound of heavy beats and French lyrics wafting over the sounds of the city. Judy was shivering and had wrapped herself in Nick's slightly-damp tail in a futile attempt to seek some kind of warmth.

"Votre sauveur est arrivé!" Finnick exclaimed as he opened the rear doors of his new van.

"Took you long enough!" Nick said, fist-bumping the smaller fox. "Can I borrow twenty bucks? I'll pay you back later."

"Uh, sure," Finnick said, fishing the bill out of his wallet and handing it to Nick.

Judy watched him disappear back into the alley as she wrapped herself in a blanket Finnick had provided for her. "Where do you think he's going?"

"Beats me," Finnick said with a shrug, eyebrow raised.

Within two minutes, Nick had appeared again. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "Just tipped our homeless friend. Without him, no quarters. No quarters, no Finnick with his magical van."

"Well, you owe me twenty bucks," Finnick said, hopping into his raised driver seat. "To Viv's house?"

"To Viv's," Judy said, huddling next to Nick, who had secured a blanket of his own.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Keeping Hidden

Patch Logan's entire body was tense. He stared at the old armadillo with tightened lips, watching the seething anger pass over his superior's face, then quickly snuff itself out to be replaced with an eerie sort of calm. Every fiber of Stanford's being looked to be taut as well.

"You mean to tell me," Stanford said, clasping his paws on the desk in front of him, "that the officers escaped?" His tone of voice was overly-controlled, and Logan detected a slight quiver beneath it.

"Y-yes, sir. The wet team engaged them and was...thwarted. The encounter generated quite a bit of noise, so they had to clear out before authorities arrived."

" _Logan_ ," Stanford said with a high tone and vibrato, eyes wide and unblinking, "I _can't_ have this."

"I understand, sir, it won't hap-"

"No, it won't. Where did they run off to?"

"The officers, sir?"

"No the window washers-YES THE OFFICERS! WHO THE FUCK ELSE?!"

Logan shrank into a nearby chair. "We...we don't know-" He was cut off by a notification sound from his phone. He checked it. "The vixen's house."

"Is your source credible?" Stanford said, still quivering with rage kept in check.

"I-if you consider Fey a dependable resource then yes."

Stanford took a deep breath through his nostrils and leaned back in his office chair, arms straight out, paws flattened on his desk. "This is your lucky day, Patch."

"Should I send another team in? Fey says Tiger Stripes is there as well, this could be our chance to take them all at once."

Stanford huffed and stared at his wall of accolades and certificates for a beat. "No. Keep them under close watch; let them make the next move. Increase asset activity in the area and tap into their communications, but we're going to watch for now. Perhaps they can lead us to our real target."

o0OO0o

Nick knocked. Jack opened the door.

"Took you two long eno-" He froze and frowned at the two of them, still standing naked with nothing but blankets draped over their shoulders. "Ah. I'm assuming you had some difficulties getting here?" He asked, standing aside.

"A few," Nick said, following Judy over the threshold. He was rather jealous of Jack's black turtleneck jumper.

"We only got your message _after_ the fact," Judy said.

"I see." Jack paused as Finnick followed, acknowledging the hare with a two fingered salute, pawpsicle stick jutting from his mouth. "Viv! The guests have arrived!"

"I thought I heard familiar voices!" Vivienne's gleeful tone carried from another room in the house. The vixen soon entered the nook, wiping her paws with a dirty rag. She wore mechanic's overalls and was spotted with grease. She frowned as soon as she caught sight of the three of them. "Had quite the night, haven't you?"

"Eh," Finnick said, with a shrug, "It's these two that have been up to the shenanigans, I just drove 'em here."

Judy giggled. "Nick knows how to show me a good time, even when we have uninvited guests."

"Well they usually don't carry knives and shotguns," Nick said, raising a finger. He turned to his mother. "You wouldn't happen to have any of my old clothes, would you? Maybe something for Judy too?"

Vivienne snorted, "What sort of mother would I be if I couldn't provide clothing for her own son?"

Nick shrugged. "I wouldn't know, would I?"

She simply _hmphed_ , smiling and turning away, striding to another part of the house, tail swishing as it disappeared around a corner.

"So why have us come here?" Judy asked, turning to Jack.

The hare looked up from his phone, which he had been staring intently at for the past minute or so. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Why is Vivienne's house the place to go when there's danger around?"

"Ah. As far as I know, Viv's is the safest place in all of Zootopia when bad things are going on. Well, bad things of a certain...signature. Like what you experienced prior to making it here."

"You mean running buck-ass naked through the city and bummin' quarters off homeless goats?" Finnick asked.

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but laughed despite himself. "I, well, yes, something like that."

Nick shared in the chuckling. "I'm sure he means the three characters that randomly attacked us _before_ our little moonlit jaunt."

"Precisely. That was what's known as a 'wet team', though, seeing as you're still alive to talk about it, they were a particularly inept one."

"Wait, you mean the ones that attacked us weren't even good at their job?" Judy asked, pulling her blanket tighter around herself.

Jack shrugged. "In essence. Real wet teams are groups of assassins meant to take down one or more highly dangerous targets at one time without causing a ruckus, or getting caught. They're _extremely_ effective when deployed properly."

"Oh. How...comforting," Nick said.

"Indeed, I urge you to rejoice since you've survived the encounter."

"Sure," Judy said, "But now the question is why they were sent after us in the first place."

"I have my suspicions. There's been a lot of chatter lately, and lots of classified personnel movements initiated by orders that, on the surface at least, aren't coming from the top. I think the CIA has renewed interest in us, and I think I know why." Jack pulled back a sleeve and checked his wristwatch.

"And the reason is?" Nick asked.

Jack held up a finger. "You will see in three...two...one…" For two seconds, nothing happened. Then a phone rang somewhere in the house.

"Oh flea-biting cockwaffle!" Came Vivienne's distant exclamation. The ringing abated. "Hello?"

The vixen herself rounded the corner, portable house phone pressed up to her ear via her shoulder, carrying a small stack of folded clothes in her arms. She paused, a wide-eyed frown spreading across her face.

"John?"

Nick stiffened. He glanced between Jack and his mother, the hare maintaining a cool gaze.

Jack smiled and took the clothes from Vivienne, who stood stock still, listening intently to whatever "John" was telling her, and deposited the folded garments on a nearby piano bench. "It might do you good to dress now," he said with a wink.

"Oh dear," Vivienne said into the phone, "Kyoto, yes? Third drop point...right...yes. Yes. Not yet. Of course."

Judy and Nick dressed behind his mother's grand piano, the polished black instrument acting almost like a giant censor bar.

"N-John, I...yes." Vivienne's eyes flicked to Nick, then back to Jack, finally coming to rest on the far wall as she turned away. "Yes. They are. Mmhmm. No, but John...indeed...you too." With that, the call ended, and Vivienne sighed, staring at the phone.

"Everything alright, Mom?" Nick asked, now dressed in a faded pair of jeans and an old heavy metal band T-shirt he wore in high school.

His mother straightened and sucked in a breath through her nose, fixing him with a tender smile. "Yes, dear, thank you."

"Who was it?"

This was met by unsure silence. She glanced at Jack, who only shrugged. Vivienne met his gaze. "As you probably suspect, that was your father. He wants us to come find him."

Confusion was the first emotion. What? Why now, after Nick's whole life, after the debacle with Mr. White when he'd learned his father was even still alive, why was he doing this now?

"You sure it isn't a trap or something?" Nick asked, "Because, given what happened just a couple hours ago, I'm pretty sure SOMEONE'S getting curious about us again, and I don't like it."

"John and I have a code; I know it's him. Jack can confirm this," she glanced at the hare, "and anyway, we've got places to be. I need to pack a few items, but make ready to leave."

"Places t- what?" Nick said as Vivienne hurried down the nearest corridor, "He can't just come visit us?"

"I'm afraid it isn't that simple," Jack said, softly.

Nick turned to face him, "What does that mean?"

"Your father...how can I put this? John knows too much. About everything."

"Everything?" Finnick asked.

Jack turned to face him. "Everything." The hare seemed to be chewing on his thoughts. His eyes studied the floor in lazy patterns, and he was wringing his paws before he paused to touch his lips with both index fingers, his hands in the shape of a gun. "I suppose if you're going to be as involved in this as he wants you to be, it's time I told you." Jack's eyes settled on Nick's. "I know your father very well. He made me the mammal that I am today, in fact. Saved my life numerous times, and we were even partners for a few years, operatives and assets in the field. He trained me, treated me like a son, then as an equal. And then he…" Jack hesitated, breaking his gaze away to study a potted plant by the front door. "Something happened. There was a period of time where someone was sent after him every day. It was apparent that he was wanted dead. He knew something, or had done something that painted a big, red target on his back. He disappeared one day. Even _I_ couldn't track him. I received a letter from him two years later, and we've been in communication ever since, but that's as much as I've known...until early this morning."

"So...he's...he talked to you or something?" Nick asked.

Jack cocked a half-smile. "He sent me a text."

"And that's how you knew something was different?" Judy inquired, having made her way to Nick's side to lean on his arm. She had on a blue flannel with its too-long sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and a pair of khaki pants that fit remarkably well.

"Well, aside from the contents of the message, it was the first text he'd ever sent me. Something as insignificant is that is usually a sign from him." Jack chuckled.

"So thanks to his break into the modern world, we now know where to find him?" Nick asked.

"Oh he's always been on the cutting edge. Through his letters he was able to confide that he'd gained temporary employment and protection while working in international surveillance. Although, as recent events seem to hint, the jig is up. He's been found and is being hunted again. As such...no one knows where he is. He's good at keeping it that way."

"Shit," Nick breathed. This was all too much. First, his mother turned out to be some kind of super thief, and now his father, whom he'd never met, was supposed to be some international mammal of mystery with all the credentials and lifestyle of Manes Bond? It just didn't make sense! And yet...if the last couple years of his life had taught him anything, it was that nothing was as it seemed, and to always expect the unexpected. He found his eyes wandering to the rabbit by his side, her arms, one mostly metal, the other fluffy and soft, wrapped around his own red-furred appendage. He blinked.

"So where are we going?" Judy asked.

"Japan!" Vivienne said, almost singing as she rounded the corner with a couple small satchels. She'd changed out of her dirty overalls and into a modest jumper and trousers.

"Japan?!" Nick, Judy, and Finnick asked in unison.

* * *

Sorry for the long wait boys and girls...lots of things going on and University is becoming a bit of a faff, but I promise to update more often! Thank you for your patronage as always! :]


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Detour

Jack should have seen it coming. It wasn't out of the question that someone could attack them, even here at Vivienne's, the closest thing to a safehouse he had in Zootopia. John would have been very disappointed, even if working out the details of John's bloody puzzle was what was distracting him. But he was a trained agent of the field, a hyper-professional, honed killer; how did this get past him?

The entire encounter had lasted less than four seconds: just after Finnick offered his van as transportation to the airport, Vivienne opened her front door. What immediately answered was a dart in her neck, followed by another in the fennec's arm. A boar and polar bear, both dressed in dark suits, burst through the aperture, dolling out precisely placed shots of tranquilizer darts, hitting Hopps and Wilde in their respective shoulders. Jack himself felt the cold needle punch through his jumper into his side, piercing the scar tissue that had built up around an old wound. He had but an instant of conscious thought, enough to draw his pistol, but not enough to keep from collapsing onto his back, the ceiling beginning to spin into a swirl of blackness.

"Dammit," he slurred.

…

A dull roar pervaded, dancing about on the edge of his awareness. It slowly rose in volume, then stabilized. Infinitesimal vibration followed, and matched. Rolls-Royce jet engines? Jack took a deep breath through his nose, smelling coffee and tea, cashmere, and two different perfumes, one cool and masculine, the other sweet and feminine. His gun was gone, though his shoulder holster was still in place. He wasn't bound or gagged, and when he shifted, the shapes of pillows made themselves known.

Evidently he wasn't considered a threat.

Jack opened his eyes to reveal the lavish interior of a private jet. Fine patterned rugs lined the floor, matching in maroon to the drapes pulled in front of the small windows, pairing tastefully with the lightly peach-hued pillows piled upon a number of cashmere-lined chairs and small couches. Hopps and Wilde were deposited onto one of the couches, while Vivienne and Finnick occupied two of the armchairs. Sitting up induced a headache, and a bout of nausea. He rubbed his paws over his face. Even his eyes hurt. And his side where the needle went in, Bloody Nora.

"Well, looks like I lost _that_ bet," a deep voice rumbled above and to the right of Jack.

The rabbit started, snapping his arms into a defensive position. Lounging a couple of windows down was a polar bear wearing round spectacles on the end of his snout, open book in his paws,and a delicate coffee cup on a comparatively tiny table beside him. He wore a brown sport coat over a royal blue shirt, accented by a pastel-pink tie. Jack lowered his paws, then swayed a bit on his feet.

"Sorry to...disappoint you," he croaked; his throat was rather dry as well.

"Oh _psh_!" the polar bear said with a wave of his immense paw, "pay it no mind, I've won every other bet so far. How's our honey bunny feeling?"

Jack blinked and frowned, then sat back onto the couch he'd awakened on, too weak and queasy to form a retort. "Not...brilliantly."

"Those tranq's have some nasty drugs in them, sorry about that hun," the polar bear said, rising out of his chair. He lumbered to Jack's side with an airline sick bag and steaming teacup and saucer, which he set gingerly on a small table nearby. "This'll help. It's like having a hangover; gotta drink lots and flush it through your system."

"The proper dose wouldn't...make me feel…" he snatched the sick bag and promptly filled it.

The polar bear clicked his tongue apologetically. "You got a fox dose I'm afraid. That was the only median we could work with, else we couldn't bring everyone to the party."

Jack swished with the tea and spat. He felt slightly better.

"I'm actually surprised you woke up as early as you did," the bear continued, "the others will be out for at least another hour or two."

Jack wheezed out a laugh, then grimaced at the bruising in his side. "I suppose I've built up a resistance over time." This was good...their captors seemed friendly enough, but where was the other source of cologne? The masculine one?

"Food should be ready soon, though I'd give it half an hour before you try and eat anything if you want to keep it down."

"Thank you, mister…?"

"Yuri, Kim Yuri," the polar bear said, taking Jack's offered paw.

"Well met," Jack said, setting his bag of sick on the floor and taking the teacup. "Mind telling me who you work for, or is that too troublesome a question?"

Kim waved his paw again. "Of course not! I work for Mr. Big. This is his private jet."

Jack felt his frown returning. "Mr. Big? What's old Mateo up to?"

Now it was Kim's turn to scowl. "How do you know Mr. Big's first name?"

"Best I keep that a secret, I'm afraid," Jack said, "But you never answered my question."

Yuri shrugged, muscle and blubber obscuring his neck. "Our only orders were to make sure you made it to Kyoto."

Jack sipped tea to hide his reaction. "Right." He narrowed his eyes at his own thoughts. _John, you sly bastard_.

"We'll be landing in, oh," Yuri consulted his watch, "three hours? So settle in; we've got plenty of entertainment options, and, as I've said, there will be food in about half an hour. Let me know if you need anything." With a warm smile, Kim plodded back to his over-sized chair, returning to his coffee.

Jack spent the next few minutes breathing and trying to clear his head. Why had John arranged to have them all "abducted?" Assuming it _was_ John who organized the whole thing, but who else could be behind it that Mr. Big would trust? Was Mr. Big actually involved, or was Yuri a master of deception? Jack suspected Vivienne's house was under surveillance, but if those watching had tapped her phone lines, wouldn't they know where the group was headed already?

Jack took a sip of tea, the warmth and floral essences chasing the last heaviness of drug-induced sleep from his eyes.

Perhaps it was just to buy them more time.

His gaze travelled to his companions spread unconscious throughout the cabin. They were all laid on their sides, standard procedure when potentially sickness-inducing drugs were involved. Vivienne still managed to appear serene, and elegant, one arm supporting her head like an old-timey actress pretending to faint. One of Finnick's arms draped off his chair towards the floor, but his paw didn't quite reach the carpet. It was strange to see the moody animal's face so calm; it made him appear much younger. Judy looked to be attempting to bundle herself with something; both paws, one metal, one flesh, had curled into loose fists beneath her chin, and her ears lay limply on the couch behind her head.

It was when Jack's eyes found Nick that his chest went cold. For the smallest instant, the reddish fur flashed white, his handsome features becoming more delicate, his body, broken.

 _Jack_.

The breathy female whisper barely echoed on the edge of his senses. Jack swore and rubbed his eyes. Not now, why was she coming back to him? It must be the drugs.

He focused on Nick again, and it brought a smile. The fox looked as though he'd made a tragic attempt to cross his arms. They just sort of lazily rested against his chest, and his mouth hung slightly ajar. It was rather adorable. Endearing. He looked back to Judy, and felt a miniscule pang of jealousy.

 _Lucky rabbit_ , he thought.

Vivienne was the next to awaken, about twenty minutes later. Jack noticed a flicker of movement as her snout took in the surrounding scents, as he had done.

"All's well, Viv; we're among friends," he said between bites of a fresh spring roll.

Ten minutes later, Nick stirred, complaining of a headache and making a snide remark about the rugs being made from the wool of sheeps' bottoms. Then Finnick awakened, apparently suffering no after effects whatsoever, probably due to his legendary alcohol tolerance.

But Judy stayed firmly within the grips of sleep.

"She's breathing...slowly," Nick said, his paw hovering near her nose.

"Did you say they used fox doses on all of us?" Vivienne asked.

"Indeed, otherwise you and Nick wouldn't have gone down nearly as quickly, if at all," Jack said. "Unfortunately, it does a number on us smaller guys."

"Speak for yo'self," Finnick chided, folding his arms.

"Why is it hitting her so much harder than it hit you?" Nick asked, eyeing Jack.

The hare considered the question. "Well I've certainly built up a slight tolerance to it over the years, and she _is_ a little smaller than me, but not enough to warrant this much extra sleep-time." He let his eyes travel over Judy's unconscious form again, looking for any clue. Was she hit by more than one dart? Was her dose extra strong for some reason?

Then it suddenly made sense.

"Her prosthetics," he said, "She's missing a percentage of her body, meaning she likely took a more direct hit to her system. Less bloodstream to disperse the drugs, and less muscle mass to help with metabolization. A rather unfortunate combination."

Nick looked down at the bunny, whose head he'd pulled into his lap, with obvious concern. "So where are we headed anyway?"

"Kyoto," Yuri rumbled from his chair.

"I think Mr. Big is buying us some time by taking everyone by surprise," Jack said, "What better way to escape the clutches of one organization than to be abducted by another?"

"It's disgustingly brilliant," Vivienne said with a smirk.

"So what's the plan when we land?" Nick asked.

"We go where John told us to, dear," Vivienne said, picking up her teacup.

"Which is where?"

Vivienne locked eyes with Jack over the rim of the teacup, a knowing expression to her, a look that made Jack realize he knew where they were going without needing to be told. "U~irude-shi no tērāshoppu."

Nick blinked. Jack smiled.

"You're father's cover business: Mr. Wilde's Tailor Shop."

…

Fey took a draw on his hand-rolled cigarette, letting the smoke billow out of his nostrils. He was bored. Terribly bored. Abhorrently impatient for the two he was waiting for. He may have been a master of waiting and observation, sometimes tracking a target for months before delivering the killing shot, but waiting on others was loathsome. And it never got any better.

He spotted the correct headlight orientation, and squinted through the ambient lighting and bustle of the terminal off-loading section. "About bloody time," he mumbled to himself, flicking his cigarette nub to the cement with the other four. He picked up his bag and the long, rectangular case that held his .30-06 rifle and strode to the SUV pulling up to the curb. Two wolves jumped out, both grey, both wearing dark suits, and both bearing the same, stoic expressions on their identical faces.

The Larkin Twins.

"Mind telling me why I had to wait for three hours and miss our flight?" Fey asked as he came to a stop. The twin closest to him slung a bag over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at Fey.

"We had to make some other arrangements," he said, completely blasé about Fey's boiling attitude.

"And, so, what, you couldn't have _at least_ let me know you were going to be making these arrangements? I could have been in a pub or something, or having dinner!"

"Someone's _hangry_ ," the other twin said as he unloaded a couple bags from the trunk.

"You would be too if you were in my position," Fey grumbled, "Where's my new ticket, then?"

The twin closest held out an envelope with a new boarding pass. "Happy now?"

"Getting better," Fey muttered, then started for the automatic doors. "You owe me a pint each after we get through security!"


End file.
